A Different Kind of Guy
by pressontoknow
Summary: I know I just made this big scene but I am so past even caring because no, I don't want a drink and no, I don't have feelings for Spike and no, I don't like always being alone. Prequel to "I Look On You With Love".
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

He wasn't the one I had eyes for when I first came to work at SRU.

I was young and nervous on my first day. That first day, when I met the team, I was struck by how nice they were. For some reason I'd expected them to be tough and rude, self-righteous prigs who felt that I was just there to serve them because they were such incredible people, always saving lives and winning awards and making a difference. But they'd been kind, all of them, so kind, and they'd put me at ease right away.

I'd heard that Ed Lane and Greg Parker were intimidating men, but I only found them to be nice. Ed likes to tease and josh around, and Greg is just pure teddy bear kindness, at least when he's not in negotiator mode. It wasn't until later in my first week that I heard how scary they both could sound over my headset. Made me glad I'd never be the one they were trying to talk down.

Sam Braddock looks like he stepped straight out of a Gap catalogue, and suddenly I understood the warnings I'd been given about all the fan mail he receives from past victims. It wasn't until I met his closet girlfriend, Jules Callaghan, that I realized why my supervisor had been so emphatic about my promptly disposing of all said fan mail. The woman is nice—really, really nice—and beautiful and funny and loving, but I can see how frightening it would be if she was jealous.

Kevin Wordsworth, or Wordy as he's called, is the definition of kind. I looked into his eyes that first day and instantly felt cared for. I love listening to him talk about his wife and daughters, whom he obviously loved desperately.

Lewis Young had a kind, slow smile that filled his eyes with a gentle light. He greeted me with a "Hello, Winnie Camden," and a gentle handshake like he'd crush my fingers if he pressed too hard. We got close over the next months as I hung out a lot with him and his sister Marie, who's about my age. I cried my eyes out the day Lew died.

And then there was Spike Scarlatti. Greg introduced him as "Michelangelo", and I had to bite the inside of my lip to keep from snickering. He caught it all the same and went around calling me "Winifred" for the rest of the day. I noted his dimple when he smiled upon meeting me, and thought it was strange that he didn't have a twin on the other cheek. The rest of the team quickly identified him as the prankster of the group, and I made up my mind to watch out for him. Hadn't really done me much good, though—he'd put jalapeno seeds in my coffee the following week, and I'd had to help coordinate EMS and unis to assist at Team Three's bomb call while chugging down half a gallon of milk, randomly gasping for air as I wiped away tears.

With all that, I guess it'd be natural to assume that I had my eye on Spike at first, or even Lew, but it was actually Joseph from Team Two that I watched for awhile. We went out once, but he turned out to be kind of a jerk when I refused to kiss him goodnight. He quit two weeks later and ran off to Jamaica in search of "someone easy", to quote the man. I choked down my disgust and decided Joseph wasn't the man for me.

Leah Kerns arrived on the scene a year into the job, after Lew's death, and we instantly hit it off. We hung out all the time, my first real friend since moving to the city, and we kept in touch after Leah headed back to Haiti to help her family out. I even made it down there for two weeks in the summer, to visit Leah and help out. It was a good time, and our friendship is still as strong as ever when Leah comes back.

The job's hard, much harder than my two years as a 911 dispatcher. I'm taking classes to get my master's so they'll keep me on after my contract expires, and some days there's not enough time to think, much less build relationships with the team. I'm thankful for Lew, and then for Leah, both of whom push their way into my usually private life and assert themselves as my friends. If not for them, I'd just be talking to my turtle, Jonah…but I may do that anyway.

It's lonely after Leah heads over to Haiti. My family all live at least a couple hours away, and I've never been very good at making friends. I'm at home after work one day, contemplating adopting a dog so I'll have _someone_ who'll be happy to see me, when I get a text from Lew's sister asking if I'm busy that night, and do I want to have dinner with her parents?

I can't reply fast enough. Of _course_ I want to have dinner—do I need to bring anything?

Marie suggests a bottle of wine or some sort of dessert and I grab both at Spencer's on my way to the house. I bike there, pedaling like mad so I'm not late and desperately trying to keep my backpack from jostling so the brownies I picked up aren't too mangled. By the time I pull up I'm ten minutes late, my hair's a wreck, and I have more than a slight suspicion that the wine bottle may have cracked.

"It's about time!" Marie teases, standing on the porch and giving me a menacing glare. "I was about to come looking for you."

"I'm so sorry," I say, storing my bike on the side of the porch. "I forgot how far it was." I glance at the driveway. "Did you get a new car?"

"Nah, Spike's here," Marie replies, giving me a wink as she takes the wine and brownies, neither too much worse for the wear, and leads me inside.

Spike's here… Is that supposed to mean something? I feel like it must, given Marie's sudden onset of "winking syndrome", but can't figure out what it is for the life of me.

"You two would be _so_ cute together," Marie says, leading the way toward the kitchen after we've deposited my jacket in the hallway. "I think Mom invited him over so she could set you two up."

"What?!" I hiss. I groan. "_Marie._"

"_Winnie_," Marie mimicks. "Take a chill pill, girlfriend—just have fun, don't worry about my mother's matchmaking schemes. Lord knows she's never seen much success."

I take a moment to try and flatten my hair before we walk into the kitchen. Really, you'd think I wasn't a functioning member of society with the way I'm looking now—my curls seem to have taken on a life of their own and left me looking like a deranged maniac. Mrs. Young can scratch those matchmaking plans. Spike certainly isn't the man who wants to date a deranged maniac.

It's just…he looks nice tonight, really nice. Instead of his typical t-shirt he's wearing a button down and white must be his color. But last week he wore blue to go out to drinks with the rest of Team One, so…maybe all colors are his color. Now that I take the time to notice, he's actually a very attractive guy. I find the dimple a bit of a toss-up in my mind. Sure, it's really attractive and all, but at the same time I'm all about the symmetry and it's just…it's a bit irritating that there's no twin.

I find myself self seated in between Spike and Mrs. Young, and I snicker every time Mrs. Young calls him Michelangelo because it makes him sound so old and dignified, while in reality he's a bit of a dork. I chat with Mrs. Young about home décor and refurnishing couches, get in a fight with Spike about whether or not caffeine is actually effective because, really, I've never seen any benefits.

Mrs. Young's made lasagna, and she tells Spike not to compare it to his mother's cooking while dishing out a portion for me. "Here, Winnie, I made part of it without cheese."

I give her a grateful smile. "Thank you so much, Mrs. Young; that's so thoughtful of you."

Spike blinks and gives me an incredulous look. "Are you allergic?"

I shake my head. "No, I just don't like cheese."

"Are you kidding me? Winnie, that's un-American."

I shrug. "My great-grandparents were from Africa."

He snorts and shakes his head despairingly. "You don't like cheese…"

"Hey, Win," Marie interjects, "you remember what Lew did when he found out you didn't like cheese?" She turns to Spike to answer his questioning look. "He thought Winnie was crazy too, so for the next few months, whenever she'd come over for dinner, he'd tell Mom how much she loved cheese so the meal would be sure to have tons of it."

I laugh and nod in agreement. "I was so discouraged," I agree, almost choking on my water as I take a sip and try not to snicker. "I had to make excuses for not eating the food every time I came over, and then I'd go home and eat a bowl of cereal and just cry."

Mrs. Young is doubled over laughing, and when she finally pulls herself together she shrugs. "I had absolutely no idea what was wrong. I kept making all this cheesy food expecting Winnie would love it, and then she never ate any of it!"

Spike laughs. "How did you finally find out the truth?"

"Lew finally confessed," Marie informs. "Mom was so mad—the next time Winnie came over she apologized again and again, all the while blaming Lew."

We're quiet for a moment, thinking of the young man now gone, and then we're talking about him, bringing up all the funny memories and the touching moments and just remembering him. It's almost eleven by the time we run out of things to say.

"I'd better get going," I say, standing from the table and piling my silverware on my plate. "Early morning tomorrow. Thank you so much for dinner, Mrs. Young, it was delicious."

"You want a brownie for the road, Winnie?" Mr. Young asks, scooping one out of the pan and onto a napkin for me.

"Absolutely," I agree, taking the greasy, chocolate goodness out of his hands. I give Marie a hug. "We need to hang out more, okay?" I turn to Spike, who's stood to see me off, and give him an awkward wave. "I'll see you tomorrow, Spike."

"Have a good night, Winnie," he says. "You sure you don't need a ride?"

"Nah, I biked. I'll see you later."

* * *

The next day I'm late to work and don't even know how it happened. I stayed up late, just thinking, and that was probably one of the factors in my sleeping through my alarm. It's just…Mrs. Young is trying to set me up with Spike, and it's gotten me thinking. I feel like such a cliché to be thinking about him in that way just because someone else suggested it, but as I think about him I come up with all these good qualities—his kindness, his great sense of humor, his willingness to listen to people—and that dimple really isn't so bad, and boy does he have a great smile. It's just…he's a great guy, and I haven't been on a date in two years, and…

I shut myself down as soon as I get to work, remind myself of the consequences Jules and Sam may be facing for their affiliation. Besides, I've seen what it's like when the workplace and love mix—Sam and Jules are the exception to my rule. I concentrate on erasing all those kinds of thoughts about Spike out of my mind.

* * *

It's been four months since the dinner incident and I've convinced myself that there aren't actually any feelings there for Spike. Sure, I've been getting to know him a lot better as I hang out with him and Marie, sure he seems to have taken a liking to stopping by my desk and trying out his lamest jokes on me, just talking about nothing, sure…but none of it means anything. He's just a good friend.

I'm great at denying my feelings. I don't date cops—work and home don't mix, my father always said, and I experienced firsthand how a family can be ripped apart when that line is breached, my father breaking his own rule. I'm not planning on going through that whole thing again.

Leah's back, and things have been so much better since she came home. After almost a year of being really lonely, I actually have a few friends. Marie and I kind of fell apart after Lew's death, but we've been really working on our friendship in the last few months and are close again. I like hanging out with Spike, like talking to him while I'm running sometimes, like seeing who can play the best prank on a member of the team.

One of Leah's first questions after I pick her up from the airport is "Are you seeing anyone?"

No, no I'm not and I haven't been and you want to go out to dinner, catch up, spend some time together without hashing all that stuff out already?

The job's better with Leah back. She's a calming influence on the team—always cool and collected, but she'll give a hug to just about anyone on the team if they need it, and she's always open to talking. She teases Spike about his failed pranks against her, and has contests against Sam to see who can beat the other in hand-to-hand combat. She shoves her way back into my life, calling me at all hours, dragging me down to the corner diner after work to eat dinner with her before we go our separate ways. She's the only one who's brave enough at first to get to know Marina, Greg's fiancée, but after she paves the way the rest of us are quick to follow and welcome her in. Leah's good for all of us. It's better with her.

I like Marina. She's beautiful and kind, and she loves to bring sweet things for the team to share. Usually she brings cupcakes, each one a different flavor, and I have to fight Spike off to keep him from taking a bite out of each one to see which one's best. He compensates by scooping some icing off his cupcake and smearing it across my nose.

I've never felt like a member of Team One, even if I'm their primary dispatcher. They all have each other and seem really close, but they've never invited me in.

They're finally inviting me in and it's just…it's nice. Really nice.

* * *

"Hey, Winnie, you want to come out with us for a drink?" Jules asks after work, all dressed up in a denim skirt and a bright red tank top, a heavily beaded necklace clattering around her neck and matching the jingle of her earrings. "We're just going to the Goose for a couple rounds."

God, this is awkward. How do you admit that you don't drink without actually saying it like that? It's embarrassing to admit to your co-workers. Finally I shrug and just say it. "Thanks, Jules, but I actually don't drink."

The other woman blinks and pauses for a moment before she replies. "Wait, are you pregnant?!" She give my midsection a pointed look.

"What?! No, I'm not pregnant. I just…" I sigh. Leah already knows, why not Jules? Besides, I can't really lie my way out of this one. "My dad was an alcoholic and…he messed up my family."

Jules' eyes soften. "I'm sorry, Win, I didn't mean to go off on you like that." She shrugs and glances towards the guys' locker room, from which they're all emerging with lots of loud laughter and shouting. "You could come anyway, just have some water? It'll be fun."

I want to, I really want to, but I've got this paper due tomorrow and a test on Wednesday… "Sure, why not. I can't stay long, though." They've never invited me before…and I don't want to say no.

"Okay," Jules agrees. "Hurry up and get changed; we'll wait for you."

I shake my head. "Nah, you all go ahead, I'll catch up. I just have to stick a couple more reports back in the file room."

Jules shrugs. "Okay, if you say so." She turns to greet the crowd of men coming towards my desk. "Winnie's going to meet us there," she informs them.

"Great!" Ed exclaims. He gives Spike this weird look that I'm not sure about—they're probably going to prank me. That's just great.

I head to the locker room to change and, seriously, are the clothes I bring to change into after work really this non-cute? I finally give up, throw on a pair of jeans and a black blouse, happen to find some silver dangly earrings at the bottom of my purse and fight to put them in. It's a la natural tonight—no makeup, hair still in a ponytail. I shrug at my reflection. There really isn't anything else to be done.

I'm surprised to see Spike standing outside the Goose when I bike up. He gives me that great smile and, really, is it normal for your insides to squish together when a coworker grins at you like that? "Hey, Winnie." He gestures to my ride. "I didn't know you biked to work."

I shrug as I lock my bike in at the post. "It's either that or the bus. I like biking because it's more my own schedule." Which means that a trip to the grocery store has to be spread out over two or three days just so I can carry everything home. I don't mention that part.

He holds the door for me as we go in, such a gentleman, and directs me to the table where the rest of the team is sitting. They're all crammed into one booth, and Leah shouts when she sees me, rushing over to give me a big hug like we haven't seen each other in weeks.

I chuckle and pat my friend on the back as we sit down. "Easy, girl, it's only been an hour since you saw me."

Leah rolls her eyes and shoves Jules over so Spike can take a seat next to me. Ed and Sam call their greetings from across the table; Greg never comes, says it's too much of a temptation to drink again. They understand.

"You want a drink, Win?" Spike asks, having to yell in my ear to be heard and making me shrink against Leah in fright.

And it shouldn't mean anything, _doesn't_ mean anything, really, but since when has he started calling me Win? It's always Winnie, Winifred, "dispatcher"…never Win. It's just…it's not a bad change.

"Just some water," I reply softly, grateful that Jules has apparently kept my secret quiet.

Spike nods, not fazed; maybe he noticed that I didn't drink the beer at the Young's house, just one glass of wine—that's the only alcohol I ever drink. He hops up to get my drink for me, and I can't help but admire those muscular shoulders through his t-shirt.

"Not bad, huh?" Leah whispers in my ear, scaring me half to death and almost making me fall out of the booth.

I glare at her. "Not you too."

"What?"

I lower my voice even more to make sure no one hears me. "Well, you know Spike's friend, Lew, the one who died?"

Leah nods. "Yeah, he's why I joined the team, to replace him."

"Well, I was pretty close to Lew too—I hung out with him and his family a lot. So a couple months ago they invited me over for dinner and Spike was there and…Lew's sister told me that her mom was trying to set us up. And it brought up all these thoughts, and these feelings, and…I just need to get past that."

Leah looks at me like I'm one wheel short of a bicycle. "Winnie, he's a great guy. Why not just give him a chance?"

I shake my head and sigh. "I would, it's just…my dad always said 'Work and love don't mix, don't ever mix them, it ends badly.' And then he broke his own rule…and he left my mom, and started drinking even more… I just don't ever want to go through that again."

"Okay," Leah says softly, seeming to realize she's pushed a bit too hard. "Don't worry, I won't say anything else about it."

But now that's all I'm going to think about for the rest of the night—that Spike's a great guy, and my dad was a different sort of guy, and maybe…

I get up just as Spike's coming back with my glass of water. "I'm actually going to head out," I say softly, trying to keep from announcing it to the whole table.

He gets this weird look on his face, like he's trying to profile me or figure out what's wrong. "What, why?"

I shrug and shove my hands in my back pockets, trying to figure out a good excuse. "I just…I have this paper due tomorrow, and I need to try and finish it up tonight…"

"Winnie, are you leaving?" Jules interrupts, effectively drawing all eyes to me.

"Yeah, I am," I sputter out, fighting to get my jacket back on and shooting Leah a glare when she grabs the sleeve and tries to keep me from getting it on. "Leah, stop being such a child," I mutter. I direct my focus back to the rest of the table. "You all have a great day off tomorrow." I try not to grimace at the thought of another three days until my weekend. "I'll see you later." I rush out, ignoring everyone yelling at me to come back, knowing I just made this big scene but I am so past even caring because no, I don't want a drink and no, I don't have feelings for Spike and no, I don't like always being alone.

I ring Leah as I'm biking down my street because it's not a great area of town, and if I got kidnapped or mugged I'd definitely want to be talking to a cop at the time so someone would know what was wrong.

"Girl, what is wrong with you?" Leah says first thing, making me grimace and almost swing into the path of an oncoming car. "Just racing off like that—_I _was embarrassed for you."

I groan, catching myself before I cover my face with my hands and crash. "I know, Leah, I know, it was just a bad night, bad day…" I glance across the street at the house where I know a couple gang members reside, hope they don't chase me down and shoot me up. "You're just the one I call when I'm biking down my creepy road."

The line's quiet for a moment. "Okay, fine, I'll let it go." She breathes into the phone. "I almost sent Spike after you, had him give you a ride home, but I figured that was the last thing you needed right then and you won't even let _me_ see where you live."

I shrug as I pull up in front of the duplex, wave at three-year-old Ezra who's smiling at me from the other half of the house, bang my bike against the door as I fight to get it in the house before someone comes up behind me and kills me. I'm seriously such a wimp; I shouldn't even be living in this neighborhood if this is the way I handle the high crime levels.

"You okay in there?" Leah asks, laughing into the receiver as she hears me banging about.

I roll my eyes and let out a sigh of relief as I get inside and lock the door without being murdered. "I'm fine, just paranoid." I glance around at my humble abode, grimacing at the mess I left it in on my hurried way out the door this morning. "Listen, Leah, I'm not really up for talking right now, 'kay?"

"Okay," Leah replies softly. "Listen, Win, I'm sorry about all that, I know I made things harder for you than it had to be."

"Don't worry about it. Have a great day off tomorrow, okay?"

"Will do. Going to do some laundry, sleep all day…I might even come by and see you."

That makes the prospect of tomorrow about a bazillion times brighter. "You better. I'll see you later, 'kay?"

"Night, Win."

I do a blitz cleaning of the house, cram my dirty laundry in a bag to take to the Laundromat tomorrow night, and get started working on my paper. I'm done by one, feel very accomplished, and have once again convinced myself that, yeah, Spike's a fantastic guy, but he's not that great of a guy; besides, he doesn't see me in _that way_, so I don't have to worry about it.

Who ever said matters of the heart were confusing?


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Thank you all for your sweet reviews! I realized that I might not have the timeline for Greg and Marina exactly right with this fic, but just go with it—it's going to end up being an AU anyway. :) Enjoy this chapter! Don't own Flashpoint.**

Chapter Two

The next day turns out to be much better than I expected. I'm kept just busy enough dispatching for Team Two, getting all my paperwork done, and helping Sarge when he comes in to take care of some extra work that was left undone yesterday. Usually he goes into the briefing room to take care of his paperwork, but today he sits at my desk with me and we chat in the free moments I have from helping Team Two out with their jumper call. Sarge is so much happier since his son Dean came to live with him, and since he met Marina. I know he was really lonely for a long time, but he has a family now. I envy him.

I have a family, at least by blood, but we've kind of fallen apart in recent years. My dad was a police officer for twenty-eight years, married to my mom for twenty-six of those. My brother Joel was born a year after my parents got married, and I followed two years later. After me was my sister Kaylee when I was three, and then my twin brothers, Jacob and Liam, when I was five.

A week before I joined the SRU I found out that my dad had been having an affair with a woman at work for two years, a fellow cop young enough to be my sister. That same week he left my mom and quit his job to run off to Hawaii with his lover. Joel sided with our dad, and I haven't spoken to either of them since.

My mom moved in with Kaylee and her husband Nate after the divorce, but now she's living in a hospital because she has breast cancer. It's stage 4. I talk to her once every couple of weeks; I never talk about anything too heavy because I know how sad she still is, and how her life has been destroyed.

Jake started a band once he got out of high school and they travel around playing at different shows. Liam's about to graduate with a degree in engineering; he's talking about moving up here to live near me. It'd be nice to actually have some family to spend time with. I tell him I'll find a girl to set him up with, and that does more to convince him than any of my other pleading.

I'm fast enough today. The team does everything right. The girl doesn't jump, and if that doesn't make the day great, I'm not sure what would.

Sarge is almost done when I get off shift at five. I tell him I'll see him tomorrow and go to the locker room to change. I'm meeting Leah at the diner down the street, but its pouring rain outside and I forgot my rain jacket. Hopefully the rain lets up before I head home. I have a feeling it's more likely that crimes are committed when it's raining because people aren't paying attention, so I'm doomed biking down my street. Goodbye, SRU. You'll be getting a call about me tomorrow.

"You're all bundled up, Win," Sarge comments laughingly when I come out. He takes in my three layers of sweaters, boots, gloves, hat, and scarf with a gentle grin.

I give him a sheepish smile. "It looks pretty cold outside."

He nods and leans back in his chair. "You want me to give you a ride? It's no trouble."

I shake my head. "I'm just biking to the Green Café to meet Leah; it's not that far. Thanks, though."

"Okay, I'll see you tomorrow, Winnie."

I pedal like mad on my way to the diner, almost get run down by a bus, and slip on my way inside, narrowly catching myself (literally) on a drain pipe on the side of the building. I stagger inside and immediately spot Leah sitting at a corner booth, looking disgustingly dry and put together.

"Hi," I greet wearily, flopping into the booth like I just biked twenty miles, rather than just one.

"Nasty out there, huh?" Leah asks, a smirk on her face as she takes in my bedraggled appearance. "I would have given you a ride, you know."

I shake my head. "I didn't want to have to go back later for my bike. So," I pull myself into an upright position and fold my hands, "how was your day off? Get lots of laundry done?"

She rolls her eyes. "Yeah, it was thrilling." Suddenly her eyes light up and she leans forward and grabs my hands. "Actually, you know what, it was thrilling. I think I met the man of my dreams at the Laundromat."

I can't help but raise my eyebrows skeptically at this sudden bit of news. "Oh yeah? What's this dream guy like?"

Leah sits back and gazes dramatically at the ceiling as if searching for the perfect words to describe the man. "His name is Zach, and he said he lives a couple blocks away from me—"

"You told him where you live?!" I hiss, just as the waitress comes over to take our order. Connie's one of two waitresses who works here at this time of day, and she and I are on a first-name basis. After chatting a bit about how awful this weather is and how her husband's been sick with the flu bug that's going around, we order. I get a hamburger with chips and a cherry coke, Leah gets the soup special of the day, Italian sausage, with some French bread and green tea. Once the waitress leaves Leah turns back to me and rolls her eyes.

"I checked him out first, quite thoroughly…"

This time I roll my eyes at all the innuendos that sentence contains.

"…both physically and personality-wise. I surmised that he wasn't a creep, and we had a good conversation while waiting for our underwear to dry."

I laugh. "Well, if that isn't a good foundation for a relationship, I don't know what is."

Leah isn't offended by my teasing—she gets a lot more than that from the guys at SRU. "So says the girl who hasn't been on a date in, what, a decade?"

I shrug and give Connie a smile as she comes back with our drinks. "I don't do dates with guys I don't know well. Tried that all through college, and look where it got me—nowhere."

Leah gives me a look like she just doesn't understand me. "Come on, Win, just let me set you up with someone; I'll find a nice guy!"

I shake my head. "Sorry, Leah, but I've sworn off casual dating. I'm not getting any younger, and I'm not about to waste my valuable time getting to know some scumbag just because someone I know set us up."

"Hey, I'm older than you, so don't you be talking about age, and I wouldn't set you up with a scumbag!"

I shake my head. "You're not old, Leah, and I know you wouldn't set me up with a scumbag, but I just don't do blind dates anymore. So tell me more about Zach McDreamy."

This gets her off my tail, and for the next hour I'm regaled by Leah's tales of how handsome Zach is, and what a great conversationalist he was, and how he asked for her number and promised he'd call. We're almost done with our meal when suddenly her phone rings. She shrieks. "He's calling!"

"Well, answer it!" I urge. Ridiculous as I think Leah's fascination with this guy she just met is, it's exciting all the same. I roll my eyes as Leah takes a moment to adjust her earrings before she answers the phone. "He can't see you—just answer the phone!"

"Okay, okay!" she hisses, motioning for me to shut up as she carefully flips her phone open. "Hello?"

"What's he saying?" I ask, more for the fun of making her flustered and miss whatever Zach's saying than actually wanting to know. She waves her hand frantically in the air in a gesture that I guess is supposed to mean I need to be quiet. I shrug and take another bite of my hamburger while making faces at Leah to try and make her laugh.

I'm done with my whole meal, and half of Leah's, by the time she gets off the phone. "Oh my God, what on earth were you talking about?" I moan, clutching my head dramatically. "I think my head's going to explode from all the giggling."

Leah scoffs at me before giving me a huge grin. "He wants to go out tomorrow night! Isn't that great?! We're going to go to that new restaurant on Pikeman, you know that Greek one?"

I grin; I can't help but get caught up in Leah's excitement. "Is it fancy? What are you going to wear?"

Her eyes widen. "I have no idea. He mentioned maybe going to a few clubs afterwards…you want to come over after work tomorrow and help me get ready?"

"Sure," I reply. I'd planned on using tomorrow night to put together a bookshelf that I ordered online, but my books can sit on the floor for a couple more days. I glance at the clock on the wall—six twenty-seven. "Oh, Leah, I have to go; I promised my neighbor I'd take care of her kids for her tonight."

Leah nods and gulps the rest of her soup down. "Let me give you a ride, Win; you shouldn't be biking by yourself this late at night."

I think about this for a moment. I mean, Leah already knows I live in a dangerous neighborhood; I might as well take her up on it, just this once. "Just this once," I respond. "You sure my bike will fit in your car?"

She nods and waves at Connie so we can get our bill. "We'll get it in there somehow."

Somehow doesn't even begin to describe our efforts to get my bike in Leah's car. We try and fit it every which way, but in the end I pretty much just have to lean forward, lay my head on the glove box, and peek up every once in awhile to tell Leah where to go.

"Oh my God, Winnie!" Leah exclaims as we drive up to my house. "Why have I never given you a ride before? It's a miracle you haven't been shot a dozen times over. And riding your bike!" She shakes her head and tsks at me as she cranes her head to get a view of my neighborhood. "I'm not letting you bike home at night anymore, no way. I'm your chauffeur now."

I grimace at her reaction and shake my head. "Leah, I'm fine. I took all the self-defense courses, I'm very aware of my surroundings."

She gives me a look.

I sigh. "Fine, you can give me rides home, but you have to promise you won't tell anyone else on the team about where I live. The last thing I need is a bunch of over-protective men—plus Jules—trying to invade my life in the name of my safety."

Leah shakes her head and gives the neighborhood another good look, mumbling something that sounds strangely like, "Spike would _die_ if he knew you lived here."

"What?" I ask.

She shakes her head quickly. "I'm just always going to be worrying about you now. But," she continues hastily as I glare at her, "I know you can take care of yourself."

I nod. "That's right. I won't let you drive me home, _ever_, if you start acting like my mom." I pause as I get out of the car and go to the back to start wrestling my bike out. "Actually, my mom doesn't really care anymore."

Leah doesn't comment on this; she's either too distracted in her searching the streets to spot our soon-to-be murderers, or she hears the pain in my voice and decides it's not the time to broach such a heavy topic.

As soon as I get my bike inside the house and send Leah off, I go to the other half of the duplex and knock on the door. Christina is my next-door neighbor, and we went to high school together. It was by pure coincidence that we ended up living in the same house, but it's a great situation. We get along really well, and I take care of her boys, five-year-old Mason and three-year-old Ezra, some nights when Christina has to work extra shifts at the retirement home. She's a nurse for patients at the end of their lives.

"Winnie!" Christina exclaims as soon as she opens the door. She gives me a big, Christina-like hug and gestures for me to come in. "The boys are just getting the rest of their things."

Christina's house is a lot homier than mine—there are toys all over the place for her sons, pictures on the walls of their fun times together; I can smell the scent of their dinner that they must have just finished. The only pictures I have at my house are ones without my dad—I got rid of all those when he tore our family apart. I almost never make meals for myself other than sandwiches and cereal; it's too hard to cook for just one person.

Christina goes to the base of the stairs and calls, "Mason, Ezra, hurry up! Miss Winnie's here!" She comes back over to me and gives me a tired smile. Christina from high school was bubbly and pretty much the life of the party, but after her marriage and subsequent divorce, she's not as bubbly. I think she's happier now with Mason and Ezra, but she more of a mom now—she's too focused on taking care of her kids and doesn't really care about partying anymore. "Thank you so much for taking care of them—you know I wouldn't ask unless I really needed it."

I nod; the only reason Christina ever takes extra shifts is when money's really tight. "Don't worry, Chris, you know I love spending time with the boys." I grin as the little ones come racing down the stairs and over to me. "Hey, boys!" I give them both big hugs. "You ready for a fun night?"

"Do you have any marshmallows at your house?" Mason asks immediately, remembering that we made s'mores the last time they spent the night with me. He's the one who looks like Christina—dark hair, dark eyes—and I just can't get over the gap in his teeth from where he just lost his first tooth. Ezra's quieter and looks like his dad—lighter hair and blue eyes, with a chubby little body that I just love to cuddle. Thankfully he's a cuddler at heart too.

"Mason!" Christina exclaims. "You'd better be happy with whatever Miss Winnie has at her house, young man; did you even say hello?"

I wait for Mason to say hello before admitting that, yes, I do have marshmallows and we can each have one s'more before we all go to bed tonight. I laugh at the boys' subsequent excitement and glance at the clock, which now reads seven oh two. "Oh, it's time to go; Mommy has to go to work!"

Christina gives the boys hugs and kisses, tells me she'll be home by five forty tomorrow morning, and dashes out the door to get to the hospital by seven thirty. I gather the rest of Mason and Ezra's stuff and lock up Christina's house before we troop next door to mine. They rush to put their backpacks in my bedroom and then dash back downstairs.

"Miss Winnie, we ha' s'moes now?" Ezra asks, holding his arms up to me so I can pick him up.

I nod and scoop him up for a hug while I tousle Mason's hair. "Yep, it's almost bedtime for you two, so we'd better have those s'mores now. Mason," I continue as we walk into the kitchen, "the marshmallows are in the pantry; go see if you can find them." I set Ezra on the counter. "Your job, young man, is to not fall off of here; got it?"

Soon we have our marshmallows roasted—I make sure to keep them both far away from the stove because I'm terrified of them getting burned—and go into the living room to eat our s'mores and read some books. Mason brings me the books he brought—"The Very Hungry Caterpillar" and "Green Eggs and Ham"—and we make our way through the books slowly, with frequent interjections and comments from both boys.

Once we're done with our s'mores and have finished the books, it's about time for Mason and Ezra to get ready for bed. We all troop upstairs to take a bath, comb hair, and brush teeth. All this takes another hour because they're wound up from the sugar in the s'mores, and I want to let them play while they're taking a bath.

By eight forty-five, I finally have Mason and Ezra all tucked into the makeshift bed on my bedroom floor. We decide it isn't necessary to tell their mom how late they're going to bed tonight. We read "Green Eggs and Ham" one more time—they don't want to go to bed, so they talk even more this time around—and I give them both hugs goodnight before I go to the bathroom to get ready for bed myself. I hear them chattering and playing, but I know they'll eventually put themselves to bed, and they're fast asleep by nine thirty when I crawl into the makeshift bed next to Ezra. They don't like to sleep alone, so I usually sleep with them; I worry too much about them anyway if I'm not with them at night. They could just wander off without my knowing, and that's a terrifying prospect.

The floor's really hard and uncomfortable, and I don't get the greatest night's sleep. Ezra wakes me up a couple times because he's scared, and needs a drink of water, and needs to go to the bathroom. Every time I have the boys over for the night I'm reminded of how hard Christina's job is—she must be exhausted all the time.

I get up at four thirty to take a shower and get ready for work, and the boys are up by five. I get them dressed for the day and we eat breakfast together and pack up their things before Christina comes home. She's knocking on my door at five forty, I give her and the boys hugs all around, and I'm biking to work by five forty-five so I can get there by six.

Probably should have given myself a bit more time, now that I think about it. I'm in such a hurry to get to work on time, I'm not paying attention to the curbs. I wipe out a couple hundred feet from the SRU building, successfully ripping my jeans, cutting up my knees and palms, and even knocking my forehead against the pavement.

"Winnie!" Jules shrieks as I come into the locker room. I was able to avoid people on my way into the locker room, but I can't be missed once I'm inside. "Are you okay?!"

"Fell off my bike, I'm fine," I mumble with a wave in Jules' general direction as I walk over to the mirror. Ouch. Maybe I'm not so fine. I can feel blood running down my legs from the cuts on my knees, and there's blood about to run into my eye from the cut on my forehead. I grimace as I brush away some gravel that's embedded itself into my face.

"I'll get the first aid kit," Jules offers, rushing out of the locker room like a woman on a mission. I hear her excited tones as she runs into someone from Team One outside the door. Crap. I mean, I know it's kind of hard to hide a head wound, but I at least had some miniscule change before Jules went blabbing to everyone.

"Winnie, Jules said you're bleeding all over the place!" Leah exclaims as she rushes into the locker room and comes to stand in front of me. I'm trying to peel my ruined jeans off without scraping my knees, but it's not really working. I don't answer her for a moment, gritting my teeth until I finally have my pants off.

"It's just a little bit of blood," I assure her, grimacing as I take in my bloody knees. _Please don't scar._

"Sit down, Winnie," Jules insists as she breezes back in. She's holding the first aid kit and a brown paper bag. She thrusts the bag in my direction. "Spike wants you to have his donut—he says it'll make you feel better."

"Aww," Leah expresses, giving me a wink. I roll my eyes.

I peek into the bag while I sit down and let Jules start doctoring my knees while Leah focuses on my head. Chocolate glazed with sprinkles—my favorite. Which is strange, because Spike and I had a specific conversation about donuts once, and he told me he doesn't like sprinkles, just the icing. It's almost like…nah, Jules said it was his donut.

"Oh, your poor bloody knees," Jules says softly as she cleans me up.

I grin and mimic her in an English accent. "My bloody, bloody knees."

I tell my co-workers that they'd better go faster than they've ever gone binding up someone's wounds because I will _not_ be responsible for making all three of us late to work. Jules rolls her eyes and goes even slower, going on and on about how Sarge is more concerned with my wellbeing than any of us being on time to work. I glare at her and tell her she's a horrible person.

Finally my knees are all wrapped up, I'm in my loosest pair of jeans, and I have a nice strip of gauze taped to my forehead. I look pretty battered. I try not to limp as I walk to my desk, but it doesn't really matter because Jules and Leah are bordering either side of me like a pair of mother hens. I couldn't be more noticeable if I was wearing a chicken costume and playing a banjo.

All the Team One men are gathered at my desk, apparently waiting for me. They hurry over when they see me.

"Winnie, are you okay?" Spike asks, leaning forward to peer at my forehead. "Maybe you should go to the hospital."

"That doesn't look so good, Win," Ed agrees. "You sure you're okay?"

I nod and try to get past the team to get to my desk. This is so humiliating. "I'm fine, everyone go about your business." I punctuate my words with a limp that brings them all huddling around me again.

"Make sure you take it easy today, Winnie," Sarge urges as he takes my elbow and guides me to my seat like I'm eighty years old. "If you start feeling dizzy or just feel like you need to go home, call your backup."

I nod and wave my hands at the team to shoo them away. "Don't worry, I'm fine; just a couple scrapes."

There aren't any hot calls today, and that kind of sucks because the team sticks around for hours, doing paperwork and working out and hovering over me. Every time one of them walks by they ask if I'm okay. I'm having a hard time responding politely.

After awhile Spike brings his paperwork over to my desk so he can sit with me. He does that pretty often ever since we started actually becoming friends and hanging out outside of work. I'm up to my eyeballs in transcripts that Sydney didn't get a chance to copy yesterday, and Spike's working on some paperwork for a complicated hostage case a few weeks back. We work in comfortable silence for a few minutes.

"How's your bike?" Spike asks at last. He hates doing paperwork—always tells me he'd rather drink mud with a straw than have to do this because it's so boring.

I shrug. "I didn't really get a chance to look at it. It's probably okay. As long as I can make it home, it's good enough for me." I can't hold back a huge yawn. Now that I'm all settled at work and the adrenaline's worn off, I'm remembering how tired I am from my night with Mason and Ezra.

"Are you okay?" Spike asks immediately. "If you're tired, you might have a concussion; let's go to the hospital."

I laugh and give him a look. "Spike, don't be such a worrywart. I just had a hard time sleeping."

He wiggles his eyebrows at me. "Late night, huh?" I catch a weird look in his eyes, like he's bracing himself for the answer. I decide it's just my impending concussion; Spike has no reason to have anything more than minor interest over how I spend my nights.

I shake my head and laugh. "I had my neighbor's little boys over while she was working an overnight shift. They're only five and three, so they had a hard time sleeping."

There's another weird look, but this time it's like relief.

I definitely have a concussion. I'm trying to profile _Spike_ of all people—he's probably pretending to give me all these looks just to play with my wannabe profiler head.

"Winnie Camden likes kids," Spike remarks slowly, breaking into my insane line of thought. "Do you take care of them often?"

I shrug and set my paperwork aside for a moment. After the morning I've had, I deserve a break. "I went to high school with their mom, so we're pretty close. She's divorced, has to work overtime a lot to make her house payments. I get along really well with her boys, so I usually watch them when she works evening or night shifts."

I shift my legs under my desk and hear a crinkly sound. I remember that I forgot to eat Spike's donut. I grab the bag from under my desk and hold it in front of him. "Want some?"

He grins at me. "I'm the one who gave you that, you know."

I shrug loftily. "I know. I just thought I'd be magnanimous in return for your generosity." I squint at him as I pull off a piece of the donut and put it in my mouth, careful to keep from getting icing all over my face. "You told me you don't like sprinkles."

He gives me that incredible grin like he can't believe I remembered that bit of information, and shrugs. "I just thought you might like a donut." He gestures in the general direction of my face. "Good day to think of you, I guess."

I nod slowly, fighting to keep my feelings from just being on open display all over my face. From his steady gaze, I know I'm probably failing miserably. Am I blushing?! It's like I'm sixteen again.

I go back to my paperwork and eat my donut in silence.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Once again, thank you all for your lovely reviews! I enjoyed writing the last chapter even if I was a bit unsure about how things were going to go when I began writing it. I thought about chucking Spike's asking Winnie out right in the middle of there, but then I figured I don't really need to rush things and it didn't fit with the chapter. Don't worry—that part will be coming soon!**

**I had a really hard time writing this chapter—almost didn't even post it—but it'd been hanging on my mind and I figured I might as well include it. I would love reviews! Tell me what you think. :) It's probably a bit much if we're trying to think of someone's "real life", but I thought I'd just spice things up.**

**I tried my best to get across how stressful and sad the situation was-my dog died yesterday, so all I had to do was think of that and I was in the right mood. :(**

**Don't own Flashpoint. If I did, it would still be airing and have shown what actually happened with Spike and Winnie! But I guess that's what I'm here for. :)**

Chapter Three

My duplex is off of Lace and Queen, about twenty minutes away from the station if I bike; ten minutes if I take the bus. It's one of the worst neighborhoods in the city—back when I worked at 911, this was one of the areas we got the most frequent calls from. I hear gunshots almost every night, and sometimes people screaming. I only call about the screaming—by the time cops get to the neighborhood it's usually too late to locate the gunshots. I used to be a light sleeper, but now that I live in a neighborhood full of gunshots and screaming and sirens, I could probably sleep through a hurricane. I'm not sure if that's a good thing.

The sun is almost blinding this morning when I bike to work. My knees are finally all scabbed over, my head wound is barely noticeable, and Leah actually agreed to let me get to work without her help this morning. I can't believe it's already July, but the blinding sun is definitely summery.

It's a normal day on the job—my water bottle is full of peach tea, there are reports to file, transcripts to go over, the team's working out way too early in the morning. I get to The Barn at six and wave at Jules on my way to the locker room. It's a Thursday—today the team is focusing on strength training and hand-to-hand combat before they'll go to the obstacle course.

I'm just about to corral my curls into a ponytail when there's a knock on the locker room door. "Hey, Winnie, you in there?"

I rush over to open the door and give my fellow dispatcher, Steve, a smile. "Hey, Steve, yeah, I'm almost done—give me just a minute."

He shakes his head. "Team One just got a call for a hostage situation at Lace and Queen. Isn't that your street?" He shrugs. "Don't worry, I'm not a stalker—I just remembered that one time me and Lauren came by to borrow your GPS."

I shake my head, pray it's not anyone I know, and gesture for him to lead the way to the desk. "Thanks for letting me know, Steve; I'll take it from here."

I take my seat and put on the headset, nodding my thanks to Steve as he wishes me well, says he hopes everything's okay and it's not anyone I know.

I almost have a heart attack when I see that the address is _my _address—it's Christina who's in trouble. I try to take deep breaths, try to calm down, try not to assume the worst. _They're okay, of course they're okay, no one would hurt those little boys..._ I allow myself one moment of panic, and then clench my teeth until it hurts. I can't fall apart now—if there was ever a call where I needed to be strong and helpful to the team, to those in danger, it's now.

Steve's given Team One directions to the house already, and I can hear Jules discussing with Sarge about how they'll approach the house. I can't bring myself to speak—I don't want to admit to myself that Christina could be in danger. Also, all that time I spent trying to keep where I live secret…yeah, it's about to go up in smoke.

"Okay, we're here," Sarge says to himself as the team arrives on scene. "Winnie, you have any info about the house's occupants?"

I swallow, pull up the file on my main screen, and fight to keep my voice steady. "Hostage's name is Christian Meleesee. Single mom, two sons, Mason and Ezra, works as a nurse at St. Gregory's."

"Okay, Winnie, anything else?"

I pause, take another moment to pull myself together. "Her apartment was broken into two nights ago. The only thing missing was her ex-husband's golf clubs. She and her boys were in the house the whole time, but they hid under the bed in the spare room and didn't see who the trespasser was."

Sarge sounds surprised. "All that in her file?"

I have to tell him. "No, Boss, she's…she's my next door neighbor." No response. "She woke me up in the middle of the night after the break-in and I called the cops." I close my eyes as I remember the fear in the boys' eyes; how Mason told me over and over about the men who "banged stuff around downstairs", how Ezra just sat in my lap still and quiet, how Christina was panicky and talked about how she needed to get a gun to protect her kids. I didn't sleep that night.

There's another long pause, and I can just see the team all looking at each other, wondering how on earth I've survived in that neighborhood because I'm not really the type of person who'd be able to defend themselves. "Not the greatest neighborhood, Winnie," Ed remarks.

I shrug to myself. "Yeah, I know, Ed, but rent's cheap."

"I hear ya. Are you and Christina close?"

I bite my lip until the pain's enough to keep me from crying. "We went to high school together. We hang out sometimes; I watch her boys for her some nights while she's working."

"Okay, Winnie, I need you to call in someone to take over your position, and you need to join us down here; maybe you can help us with profiling the suspect."

_I can't do that, I'll fall apart, the last think they need is me on the scene, hysterical._ "Will do, Boss; just give me half an hour."

"Hey, Win," Leah interrupts, "take my car. The keys are in my locker."

"Thanks, Leah."

I rush to call Sydney, my backup for the day, thankful he lives close-by and won't take long. I keep myself busy while I wait for him, filing last-minute reports, cleaning up all my stuff, changing into a soft blouse that Christina gave to me last Christmas. As soon as Sydney arrives I'm running to Leah's car, trying to get to my house as soon as possible. I've never driven so fast in my life. I'm there in five minutes.

The road is blocked off by a half dozen police cars, but I guess Sarge warned them that I'd be coming because once I give my name, they let me through. I park a couple houses down, not wanting the car to be in the way, and walk towards the command truck. Do I go in the command truck? Is that even the right vehicle? I don't see anyone I know, and I'm having to bite my lips again when my house comes into view, surrounded by ambulances and police cars and flashing lights. _Please, God, let them be okay_.

"Winnie!"

I turn to see Sam jogging towards me. "Sam, thank goodness. I didn't know where to go."

He gently takes my arm and starts leading me toward the command truck. "Boss is in the truck, told me to bring you in as soon as you got here." He gestures to the general area. "Not the greatest neighborhood, Win. Break-ins, thefts, homicide…"

I nod. "I know. I've been looking for a better place, but everything's just too expensive right now."

"Yeah, I get it." He presses a button on his headset. "Sarge, Winnie's coming in."

I've never been inside the command truck, just seen the exterior. It contains about as much technology as you can fit into such a small space—computers, extra screens to pull up security footage and the like, and a bunch of steel cabinets attached to the truck walls. Who knows what's in those.

"There she is," Sarge says kindly as I come in, Sam heading off to coordinate with Ed. Spike gives me a smile from where he's sitting at one of the computers. "How're you doing, Win?"

I give them both a shaky smile. One of my good friends and possibly her children are being held hostage. It's not a great day. "I'm okay, Boss."

Spike glances over and gives me a grin. "That was the shortest half hour I've ever seen."

The man is sweet, I'll give him that, using humor to try to get me to calm down. It works. I give him a little laugh and shrug as some of the pressure releases. "I had some extra incentive." I look back at Sarge and gesture to the screens. "What can I do?"

"I want you and Spike to go over anything he thinks could be useful to getting those people out safely. I'm going to go talk to the rest of the team to figure out where we're going to go from here."

Which basically means, 'We're going to plan to get them out safely, but that might not happen. We don't want you to know that.'

"Sounds good," I reply, unable to hold back the tremble in my voice.

Spike manages to distract me again by pulling up the other rolling chair next to him and pointing to it. "Take a seat, ma'am," he orders in his best Western accent. It's an utter fail, but it gets me laughing anyway. I give Sarge another smile as he leaves.

"I'm sorry about all this, Win," Spike says, turning from the screens to face me. "Try not to worry—we're going to do everything we can to get Christina out safely."

I nod and purse my lips together to keep from crying. "Do you know if Mason and Ezra are inside?"

"They are," Spike says softly, and I can't help but close my eyes, digging my nails into my palms to try to focus on the pain.

"They're just babies," I say at last, opening my eyes to see his face filled with concern. "They must be so scared."

_Winnie, this is not the time to be a wimp. Pull yourself together—that family needs you._

I shake my head and clap my hands together in an attempt to literally slap myself out of it. "I'm sorry. This is not what you need right now—you need me to be focused and informative. So, what do you have so far?"

He gives me a look like he knows I'm falling apart, but thinks it's probably not best to mention it right now. "We were able to make contact with the suspect," he begins slowly, turning back to the screens and pulling up a photo, "but we only got his name before he hung up. He told us he'd call again in a little while, when he's ready. Charlie Kepple. You know him?"

I shudder as I take in the face. "He's Christina's ex-husband. I only met him once, about two months ago. Really creepy guy, kind of a perv." Spike raises his eyebrow, but doesn't comment. "He lost custody of the boys," I continue, "but the one time I met him he'd come by without warning Christina. I was over visiting at her place while the boys were at her mom's house. He got really angry when she said they weren't there, starting yelling and making threats. She got a restraining order against him the following week."

Spike makes some notes in his binder. "You have any idea why he could be doing this?"

I shake my head. "I have no idea. After that day I looked him up in records to check his criminal record. He spent a long stretch in prison after he shot a man during a drug deal. After he got out he met Christina and they got married—he told her he was done with dealing drugs, but it was actually going on strong the whole time they were married. When Christina found out she took the boys and left him. Since then he's been tracked by Guns and Gangs for some kidnappings and heists, along with more drugs, but charges never stuck."

Spike nods and presses a button on his headset. "Sydney, see what else you can find out about Charlie Kepple. Any recent drug activity, breaches of his restraining order." He glances at me. "I'm going to put the team on speaker so you can hear what's going on; feel free to jump in if you can think of anything that might help." He presses a few buttons on the console. "Boss, Winnie's on speaker."

"Winnie!" Sarge greets in his usual easy, calming voice. "Can you think of anyone who has anything against Christina, besides her ex-husband?"

I wrack my brain to try to think of anyone, but Charlie's the only one I can think of. "No, Boss, I can't think of anyone else. Christina's great—she gets along with everyone."

Things are quiet for awhile now. The team is trying to figure out the best way to get eyes inside the house. After about ten minutes Sydney calls back; says that he did some digging and found out Charlie came by Mason's school three days ago to try and see his son. "He went into a rage after being told he couldn't see Mason, and he drove to Christina's house to try to talk to her. She wouldn't open the door—just called the cops—and they had to forcibly remove him from the property."

Spike glances at me. "Did Christina tell you about that?"

I shake my head. Three days ago… "She doesn't like to talk about Charlie, says she can take care of him herself. I worked the last three days, so I haven't seen her for awhile."

The team begins to move then. Sam's going to try to go to the back of the house and get a camera under the door or through a window. Ed's going to go with him and cover him. They're at the back door, just about to start, when Spike suddenly says, "Boss, he's calling."

"Put him on speaker, Spike. I'll talk to him." There's a pause, and then, "Hello, is this Charlie?"

"At the base of each door I have rigged an explosive," a deep voice says. I shudder to hear that voice. "If your team tries _anything_, they will be killed."

"Ed, Sam, back down," Sarge says softly. "Charlie, can you tell me if Christina is okay? Are Mason and Ezra okay?"

"Of course they're okay!" Charlie yells, making me start. "You think I would hurt my sons?"

"I'm not suggesting that, Charlie," Sarge replies calmly, unfazed by the man's outburst. "Do Mason and Ezra have any toys to play with, or books to read? You don't want them to start getting restless and maybe try to go out of the room."

There's a long pause. "He has his coloring books."

"Okay," Sarge continues, not pushing further to find out which boy the man's speaking of. "Charlie, I'm just wondering why you would keep your sons in that house against their will—can you explain that to me?"

"Winnie…Camden," Charlie says slowly.

I sink back into my chair and grip the armrests as the air's suddenly sucked out of the truck. This is about me? How can this be about me? I don't even know the man.

"Winnie Camden is your primary dispatcher, Greg," Charlie continues in a scary voice. I can hear a tremor, like he's shaky from coming down off a high. "She is also my ex-wife's next door neighbor. She is _also _the reason I can't see my children anymore."

Spike gives me a look like, _Do you know what he means?_ But I have no idea.

"How's that, Charlie?" Sarge asks.

"Winnie Camden is the one who convinced my whore of a wife to get a restraining order against me. _She_ is the reason I can't see my sons anymore."

That much is true. After I met Charlie and saw how dangerous he was, I talked with Christina long and hard about how she needed to protect herself and her boys primarily. I gave her some time to think about it, and the following week she agreed to come with me to the police station to file.

"I don't see what Winnie has to do with this, Charlie," Sarge continues softly.

"She has everything to do with this!" Charlie bursts out. "Everything!" I cringe as I hear one of the boys crying in the background, and there's a long pause. "I want you to deliver Winnie Camden to me in ten minutes, or I will kill Christina." The line clicks.

_Calm down, Winnie, take some deep breaths, it'll be okay. You'll go into that house, Sarge will talk Charlie down, and you'll all come out safely. Maybe you can even take Christina and the boys out to dinner—they'll like that after such a stressful day…_

"Winnie, you okay?" Spike asks softly, breaking into my frantic train of thought. He looks really concerned; I almost feel guilty for making him this worried.

I just stare at him for a moment before I realize what he said. "I'm fine." I glance around as I come out of my daze. "Guess you'd better get me a mic."

"Hold on, Win," Sarge cautions. "Team One, let's meet at the command truck and talk about what we're going to do here."

The team is gathered outside of the truck in two minutes; they include me in their circle as they deliberate over how to handle the situation.

"Okay," Sarge begins, "Ed, Sam, did you see any evidence of that bomb he was talking about? We need to find out if he's bluffing."

Sam shakes his head. "It could be hidden inside the door, but we couldn't see anything from the exterior. Guy like this doesn't seem like he'd have access to explosives."

"We can't take that chance," Sarge observes. "Is there any way we can get a camera inside a window? At this point we don't even know what room they're in…I don't like us not having eyes in there."

"They're in the living room," I blurt out, suddenly having actually remembered a valuable bit of information. _See, there _is_ a reason they brought you here._ "Charlie said the boys had their coloring books—Mason's coloring books are always in the living room, on the bookshelf."

"Okay, good," Ed commends, "that's good. The living room has two windows facing the north fence, and the only access is through the front door or the back door through the kitchen."

"Not much in the way of entry," Leah muses. "What're you thinking, Ed?"

There's silence for a moment as everyone tries to think of a plan of action. Suddenly Ed holds up one finger in the air, his moment of clarity. "Winnie, is there any way that your house is connected to Christina's? Any primary adjoining walls or anything we could get through?"

I nod. "The house wasn't always a duplex. The stairs are subdivided, and there's also a new wall separating our kitchens. The wall separating my bedroom and Christina's upstairs is original, though."

"Okay," Ed says with a nod, "here's my idea. It's _crazy_, but here it is…"

* * *

Sarge makes the call after eight minutes have passed. Charlie doesn't sound happy.

"I've already told you what I want, Greg; now just bring me Winnie Camden!" He sounds stressed, panicked, and I can hear one of the boys crying in the background.

"We will, Charlie, we will. We just need you to give us five minutes, Winnie's almost here." There's no way he could know I'm here already, so we're trying to stall for time while Ed puts his plan into action.

He's right—it is crazy. At first everyone was pretty much against the idea, but eventually we realized it was the only course of action we would come up with on such short notice.

It only took two minutes for Spike to examine the front and back doors and determine that the bomb threat is a lie. There's no way Charlie could have either the material or the knowledge to build an explosive, and there's absolutely no evidence of one that can be seen or detected through x-ray. He and Jules are sneaking upstairs into my bedroom right now to place a charge that will demolish the wall separating my bedroom and Christina's, while I'm being suited up with a vest and earpiece. I'm going to go to the front door accompanied by Sam and a shield; while Charlie's at the front door Spike is going to detonate the explosive, providing a distraction while Ed and Leah come through the back door and get Christina and the boys out safely. If all goes well Leah will get the hostages out of the house while Ed comes from behind, Sam from the front, and Spike and Jules from above to surround Charlie before he can recover from the shock. Sam's planning on shoving me out of the way, but I'm hoping I can just jump into Christina's rose bush without actually being pushed.

Sarge keeps Charlie on the phone for another two minutes until he gets word that everyone's ready. "Alright, Charlie, Winnie's here now; she's going to come to the front door, okay?"

"Okay," Charlie agrees, his voice giving evidence to the assumption that he's high, stressed, and not really thinking clearly.

"Winnie's going in," Sarge reports softly into his earpiece. It's strange having an earpiece instead of a headset—I'm not used to all the voices actually being _in_ my head.

We walk slowly up the front walkway. The plan is that, as soon as Charlie opens the door, Spike will detonate the charge and hopefully everything will go smoothly.

Sarge is still on the phone with Charlie, and he lets him know when we get to the front door. The door opens slowly, revealing the man responsible for all of this. He's sweaty, breathing heavily, and obviously in need of some form of drug.

"Eagle Two, go," Sam says softly, and there's an explosion on the second floor. I hear the boys screaming.

Turns out Sam actually does shove me into the bushes. I'm so caught up in the moment I completely forget that I actually need to get out of the way because this man's dangerous and I'm a civilian. So, yeah, me and the thorns get pretty cozy.

I stay huddled down for a long moment because there's a lot of yelling inside the house, the sounds of glass breaking, and I'm not used to actually experiencing any of this—I just listen to it over my headset. It's totally different in real life.

I finally get up when I see Leah running by, guiding the boys and Christina to the truck. I run after them.

"Miss Winnie!" Mason yells, and flings his arms around my neck. He's crying, Christina's crying, and Ezra doesn't look like he knows what's going on. Somehow my arms are long enough to stretch around the whole little family, and Leah and I take them to the ambulance to be looked over.

I don't talk to the team after Christina and her boys are rescued. I don't want to leave them alone, and the team is busy cleaning up this mess that Charlie made. He comes out kicking and screaming and is quickly taken away in a cruiser, hopefully to stay in jail for a long, long time.

"We're going to go stay in a hotel for the night," Christina tells me quietly as the paramedics look over Mason and Ezra. "I want them to forget about this as soon as possible. We can go swimming and have room service…" Her voice trails off as tears cloud her eyes. "I'm so sorry you had to get dragged into this, Winnie."

"Oh, shut up," I say softly as I wrap my arms around her again. "Blame your crazy husband. You know how much I love being a part of your family."

Christina has to go to the police station to give a statement, so I take the boys back to The Barn to watch them while she's busy. Sarge lets Spike stay with me and the boys while the rest of the team takes care of their gear. We play a bunch of games, like hide-and-seek, tag, and "count how many thorns attacked Winnie". After Christina comes back and takes the boys home, the team goes to debrief. Sarge asks me to stay until they're done.

I never wanted the team to see where I live. It's not that I'm ashamed of it exactly—it's all I can afford right now and I actually kind of like the interior. But they'd baby me if they found out, always insisting on giving me a ride home, keeping me late at work so I'd have to stay over with Leah. I have a feeling they're doing more than debriefing in there—they're trying to figure out how they can subtly "mother" me.

Their normal debriefs don't seem to ever take this long. I chat with Sydney, get in a run, and desperately try to keep myself from numbering the ceiling tiles out of boredom. Doesn't really work; I'm on two hundred thirty-seven when Spike comes out and find me mumbling to myself and staring at the roof.

"Did you find the writing on the wall?" he asks drily, coming over to me with a grin.

I blush. _And, seriously, Winnie, you are so far above that._ "I was bored. And _someone_ has to make sure nobody's been stealing the ceiling panels."

He snorts and rolls his eyes. "Boss wants to see you."

I expected to just find Sarge in the briefing room, but actually the whole team is still here, and Spike sits next to me after we come in.

"So," Ed begins slowly, "Winnie, you did a great job today. You gave us a lot of valuable information that helped us get the Meleesee family out safely."

"Plus," Spike adds with a shrug, "you let us pretty much demolish your house. Hats off to Winnie."

Sam laughs. "It's not everyone who'll let us blow up a bomb in their bedroom."

There's a long silence, during which Leah's smirking at me and the rest of the team is all looking at each other like something else is going on. Finally Sarge turns to me.

"Winnie, you know we're just concerned about you—"

"Why are you living in that part of town all by yourself?" Jules exclaims.

"And biking!" Ed joins in. "Do you know the rape rate there?"

"It's too dangerous, Winnie," Sam interjects.

Spike's grinning at me, watching me react to this whole comedy act at my expense.

"Guys!" Leah yells, standing up authoritatively and waiting until everyone shuts up and looks at her.

"Guys," Leah repeats softly, "calm down. Winnie's going to be staying with me for a few days," she gives me a look that tells me not to argue, "and we're going to figure something out."

Everyone's quiet for a moment, and I try to appear as if I was informed of this plan before this very moment. Spike's still grinning, and I can tell he sees right through me.

"Well, okay then," Sarge agrees. He glances at me. "Win, let us know if you need help cleaning up your house; I'm sure we'd all be open to helping you out there."

"Especially since it was our fault," Spike remarks sarcastically.

"Well, your fault," Sam replies.

Spike rolls his eyes, and Sarge tells us all to have a good night. I'm on my way to the locker room to get my backpack when I hear someone calling me.

"Hey," Spike says as I turn around and he jogs up to me. He looks really uncomfortable and doesn't say anything for a moment. "Let me know if this is out of line…" He pauses again as if waiting for me to stop him. I just nod for him to continue.

"I just…I was wondering why you were living in that part of town." He shrugs awkwardly. "I mean, if that's all you can afford you should be gunning for a raise."

Well. That _is_ kind of out of line. But it's just Spike, I guess.

I clear my throat awkwardly. "Yeah, um, my mom has cancer, and when my dad left she lost her insurance, so I'm helping my sister and her husband pay for the hospital bills."

He obviously wasn't expecting that, and I can't help but grin at his expression. "I'll see you later, Spike."

"Let me know if you need help at your house," he calls after me.

"Will do."


	4. Chapter 4

**AU: Okay, first off, did anyone watch the finale of Emily Owens M.D. with me last night? Was I the only one who felt like crying at the end? Seriously, how lame was that ending?! I literally couldn't speak for two straight minutes—I was just blown away. Luckily, I wrote an ending that I like a lot better—go check it out! If I could go back in time, I wouldn't watch the finale; I would just read my own ending to the twelfth episode and be happy with that. Did I mention how much the finale SUCKED?!**

**Sorry. There are some unresolved issues there.**

**Let's get back to Spike and Winnie, who we know ****_did_**** end up together (yay!), and I'm going to tell you how. :D**

**Thumbs up for my turtle, Jonah, making an appearance in this chapter! I know it's a lot shorter than my others ones have been, but I felt like this was a good place to end it for now. I had so much fun writing this chapter. :)**

Chapter Four

I stay with Leah for three days before we finally sit down to talk about where I'm going to live. She tells me she's been looking for a roommate for awhile now—she's lonely, and the apartment's a bit more expensive than she can handle—and she'd already been thinking of asking me before my house was basically destroyed. I think about it for a few days and then realize that, logically, this is a great plan. Leah and I get along great, and I think we'll be okay as roommates. We work the same schedules, we're both pretty clean, and we already spend hours together each week when we're off. It's perfect. Plus, my half of the rent, water, etc. is exactly what I was paying for my duplex.

We consider killing ourselves by moving all my stuff out on our nights off, but I make an executive decision and decide to just take the team up on their offer to help me move on my next day off, which coincides with that of Team One on their rotating schedule. Ed and Sarge have to go to a football game at Clark and Dean's school, but we get Spike, Sam, and Jules to help us out.

Leah and I spend the night in Christina's living room. She's already moved out and technically the house has been deemed unsafe—there is, after all, the remnants of a destructive explosive charge upstairs—but we didn't want to have to wake up earlier than absolutely necessary on my moving day.

"It's kind of creepy here," Leah says softly as we sit in Christina's living room, all bundled up in our sleeping bags and listening to some weird techno music she's into.

I snort. "Great, this coming from the SRU officer who goes around saving lives all day. I feel so safe."

She rolls her eyes and lays back against her pillow, quiet for a long while. "You know, I really like Zach."

I consider this for a moment. She's been dating Zach for three weeks now, and I'm not sick yet of hearing her gush about him. It's good for Leah to actually be with someone who sticks—who gets her and her weird personality. Who understands that, at her job, she's tough and a risk-taker and brave, but the rest of the time she's really all girl—gentle and caring and beautiful. Zach gets that. I've only met him a couple times, but he seems like a really great guy.

"What are you thinking will happen?" I ask finally. I'm always so bad at these things—I have no idea what to say.

She rolls on her side to face me and props herself up on her elbow. "Honestly, we just click. I could maybe see us having a great relationship, a long-term one, you know?"

I nod. "From what I've seen of you two, you get along really well. Which is great."

She rolls onto her back again and smiles. "It is great," she murmurs.

We stay up talking till two. I'm beginning to wonder how this roommate system is going to affect my sleeping schedule.

Leah told everyone to get to the house at seven, but I'm questioning her sanity when my alarm goes off. We all just worked six days straight, and all I want to do is sleep, even if Christina's floor is about ten times as hard as mine. Honestly, it's like there are cinder blocks laying the foundation for this carpet.

I doze off after my alarm goes off, hoping Leah will get up, and it's not until I hear someone banging on the front door that I finally crack my eyes open. From my haze of sleep I hear Leah go to the door and let someone in, someone really loud.

"Good morning, sleepyhead."

I moan and roll over to try and cover my head with my pillow, which has mysteriously disappeared. "Don't hurt my turtle." _Good Lord, Winnie, you are just the epitome of grace and charm. Did you really just say that out loud?_

I peek my eyes open, hoping I'm still dreaming. Nope, Spike's standing right in front of me. He's grinning like a maniac and has this dazed look on his face, like he has no idea what he just got himself into.

"Your…turtle," he says slowly, obviously trying not to burst out laughing as I pull myself into a sitting position.

_This isn't happening. I am _not_ facing Spike Scarlatti with bedhead and talking about a turtle._

I run my hands awkwardly through my hair to try and flatten it a little. "Yeah…I have a turtle." I point a thumb in the direction of my side of the house. "Don't want you knocking his tank over while you're trying to get my dresser out the door."

Spike nods slowly, obviously unsure of how to respond. "O…kay." He holds out a Starbucks cup to me. "I got you some coffee. I mean, I know caffeine doesn't affect you, but…"

I grin up at him and try not to breathe out any morning breath. "Thanks. That was nice of you."

Jules and Sam arrive in about ten minutes. Sam blames their being late on Jules, saying she took the longest shower in world history, while Jules points out Sam's perfect hair and says he used a whole bottle of hair gel. I choose not to tease the Abercrombie couple—Leah and Spike have that covered.

Everything is already out of the house except for furniture, which Leah and I didn't have room for in her car. Sam borrowed Ed's truck, and Spike has his, so we're planning to just load everything into the beds and hope it all fits in one go. I'm thankful I haven't had a chance to build my bookshelf yet—it's much easier to move with it still in the box.

After I've pulled myself together and inhaled a granola bar, I dash over to my house to help everyone else who's already hard at work. I smile guilty at Sam and Jules, who are working to get my kitchen table out the door.

My first stop is my dining room, where my turtle's tank is. I fill up a plastic bowl with water and scoop him out of the tank. "Jonah!" I coo in the baby voice I always talk to him in, "we're moving today!"

"Creepy baby voice to a turtle."

I whirl around to see Spike leaning on the doorjamb and grinning at me. "Only you, Win. I just gotta say, you're the only one I could ever see doing that." He clutches at his head dramatically and moans, "Scarred for life."

I shrug nonchalantly as I peer into the bowl, where Jonah's swimming around rather frantically. "Poor baby, don't worry." I glance up at Spike with an evil gleam in my eye. "Spike will drain your tank and get it all set up at the new house."

He rolls his eyes and mumbles, "Your hero."

Everything's moved in by three. We had to make two trips, but overall everything went smoothly. Jules stays awhile after the guys leave to help me unpack my clothes and other personal things before she gets a text from Sam and dashes out, saying it's "urgent". Yeah, right. Leah and I spend our first roomie night watching The Patriot and crying.

I am dead the next day, like, honestly dead. I can barely crawl out of bed, much less take a shower before work, so my hair's nice and greasy for the day. Leah is disgustingly put together—showered, all made up—she even watered her plants before we left. Usually I'm sort of a morning person but, dear Lord, Leah is the freaking morning _queen_.

"Someone looks a bit tired," Spike smirks as he comes strolling in, cup of coffee and car keys in hand. He leans on my desk and grins at me. "Poor baby."

I squish my fists against my eyes and moan. "Oh, why won't caffeine affect me?! I think I'm dying." I glare at him, all bright eyed and clean shaven and _happy_. "I barely even moved anything—how are you so rested? I think I lifted a couple boxes the entire day, and I could barely get out of bed."

He shrugs. "I'll crash later in the day. I do pretty well in the mornings." He grins as Sam comes shuffling by my desk on his way to the locker room. "Sam-o! Bud!"

Sam just glares at him and continues on. "I hate morning people."

"That makes two of us!" I call after him.

The team runs a couple of training routines on the obstacle course before coming in to take care of last minute stuff before they go on patrol. Ed and Sarge are having a brief meeting with Commander Holleran, and the rest of the team is supposed to be taking care of paperwork from last week. Leah and I share a mutual look when Sam and Jules both suddenly remember they forgot something in their cars and have to run out to get it; "don't worry, we'll be back in a minute".

Spike comes over to my desk in all his tactical gear, and I tell myself that it's just my foggy, exhausted brain that has me thinking he looks _hot_ today. Seriously, the muscles and the grin and that dimple…Spike, you're killing me here.

My sister once asked me how I handled myself around all that Kevlar and muscle all day, to which I said, _Thanks, Kaylee, you know it hadn't really bothered me before, but now that's all I'm going to be thinking about._ Especially with Spike. Abercrombie Sam is way too bleach blond for me.

Spike and I talk for awhile about how I tried to make fresh salsa last night for the movie, and how I wasn't thinking and just threw the jalapeno away after I chopped it up. Leah pretended to like my watery tomato paste, but I couldn't bring myself to eat it. Spike says he could have helped out with the jalapeno, and I pretend to rail against him over my hazing. He just laughs and goes to talk with Leah.

They look like they're having a really deep conversation, and I make a face at Leah when she looks at me and snickers. She just rolls her eyes and turns back to Spike, who's looking kind of stressed out. I'm about to yell at them and ask what they're talking about when something pops up on my screen.

* * *

Spike asked me out last night.

I'm sorry, what? Who gave him the right to come along with his grin and his eyes and just blow everything I thought I knew right out of the water? Is the sky still blue? Is the earth's surface still composed primarily of water?

Okay, maybe not that bad.

It had been a great day. The bad guys were caught, the guy got beat up for the girl, and then the guy actually got the girl. I was on a little lovesick high when suddenly Spike comes up, looking all nervous and hopeful, and asks if he can take me out to dinner.

In the space of two seconds, about a million thoughts went through my brain.

First, _of course. Of course I will go out with you. How could I say no to that face? Plus, Leah's watching us, which is kind of awkward, and I know she's going to grill me later._

Second, _Winnie, you know this. You know what happens when these things mix. Families are destroyed. Divorce, orphans, debt. It might not always be that bad, but there's the potential. And you can't go through that again._

And third, it's not just the consequences, but I _do_ have a rule. I _do_ need balance. The two of us combined work more than a hundred hours a week—there's barely time to go to team picnics or out to drinks, much less have a functioning relationship.

I'm a wreck, my family is a wreck—Spike just doesn't really know what he's trying to get himself into. I need someone who's not always seeing all the bad things in people's lives, someone who actually sees the happiness and doesn't cry after a bad day at work.

I've never even been in a serious relationship with someone. Starting one with Spike—there's so much more at stake than with any other guy—plus working together—even more at stake—is just too much right now. Too much ever.

So I told him no. I used my rule as a way to get out of it. Sure, that was a pretty big factor in saying no, but it was also to just blame everything on the rule.

But his face after that. Oh Lord, his face. He looked so disappointed. Why would Spike look so disappointed just because I turned him down? I mean, he could have any girl he wants. Except me, I guess.

I feel so guilty for the rest of the day. Leah won't shut up on our drive home—why did I turn Spike down, he's a great guy, I need to just move on, blah, blah, blah. I go shut myself in my room as soon as we get home. Yay. Second day as roommates, and we're already fighting.

It's just…I expected Spike to ask _Leah_ out before he asked me. Which means I had no idea this would happen. Ever.

Oh my God. How am I going to go back to work? How are we ever going to work together again?

The team's going to know. They just _know_ these things. They'll see Spike's acting differently, and they'll have it out of him in two minutes. Ed will clap him on the shoulder with his, "Hey, Bud, what's wrong?" while Greg sits quietly and just waits. Jules will murmur and actually act like a girl; Sam will be all, "Hey, Spike, what's wrong?" with his furrowed brow and piercing gaze. And Spike will tell them everything. He just cracks like that.

I won't even have a chance—it'll just be written all over my face. _I, Winnie Camden, was asked out on a date by Spike Scarlatti at six forty-seven pm yesterday. And I looked into those incredible eyes, that great smile…and I turned him down._ Not that I'll say anything like that—_never_—but they'll know. Oh, how they'll know.

I call in sick. And then Leah drags me out of bed, practically dresses me, and drags me out the door moaning and saying how horrible this day is going to be.

"Winnie!" Steve says with surprise when I stagger in. "I thought—"

"She's fine," Leah interrupts, shoving me towards my desk. "Steve, go home to your wife. Winnie, suck it up."

I'm hyperventilating. Leah didn't even let me go to the locker room to change, so now I have to shove my backpack under the desk and lie to Sarge about why I'm wearing a frilly pink blouse. _Oh, the move was so hard, you know, I haven't had a chance to do any laundry. I promise I'll be back in uniform tomorrow._

He knows something's up.

Ed's next, with his fatherly grin, asking me how I'm doing.

_Oh, I'm great. Sure, Spike's going to walk in any minute and I just might quit and go get a job serving drinks at the Goose—which would be ironic, since I don't drink—but yeah, Ed, I'm fine._

"Just a little tired," I say.

"Oh, yeah?" Ed asks, his wretched concern making him come over and lean on my desk. "What's keeping you up at night?"

If it was anyone but him, I'd think that was a creepy question, but it's Ed and he'd never do that to me. "Oh, you know, just the move." I don't meet his eyes and run my hand awkwardly through my hair. _Wow, Winnie, if that didn't clue him into something being wrong, I don't know what would._

"Win," Ed asks seriously, giving me that look, "what's wrong?"

"What's wrong with Winnie?" Jules asks, suddenly coming up with Sam. They've just arrived. _Perfect timing, guys._

"I'm _fine_," I bite out, glancing frantically at the door. _Please, God, let there be a traffic jam, a car crash, a slow old lady walking across the street, anything to keep him from getting here right now._ "You all can just go change and get ready for the day because I am doing _great_."

My voice trembles there at the end. They all lean in closer—Jules actually comes around and gives me a hug. It's all over my face, I know it, they can see everything.

"Hey, guys."

_Please, let the ground open up right now, swallow me, burn me alive, anything. This is not my life._

"Hey, Spike," Sam greets casually.

He takes in the scene in a moment and gives me a gentle smile. "Hey, guys, do you think I could talk to Winnie for just a minute?"

Jules gives him a look like she has no idea what's going on. She shrugs. "Yeah, okay, I'm just going to go get changed. We're meeting in the briefing room in ten."

"Okay," Spike agrees, waiting until they all head off to the locker rooms before he turns to me.

_Don't ask me again. Please don't ask me again. I'll say no, because my rule is important to me, and I'm going to hold to it, but I don't want to hurt you again. Please, Spike._

"Win, it's okay," he says softly, making sure no one can hear him even though there's no one nearby.

I almost go for the whole, _What's okay? Oh, you mean that? I'm fine._

Nah, it's just Spike. I let my relief spill out of my eyes.

"I'm so sorry," I whisper, shaking my head and staring at my desk, where I'm clenching my hands together till it hurts. "I didn't want to hurt you…"

"Win," Spike says again, waiting for me to look at him before he continues, "it's okay." He shrugs. "I asked you out. You said no. And I respect that. Nothing needs to change between us."

Pathetic as it is, I might actually tear up at his words. The man is just so _kind_.

"Thank you," I whisper, just as Sarge walks up from the locker room.

"Hey, Spike, Winnie." He takes in the scene before him with a critical eye. "Everything okay?"

"All good, Boss," Spike responds with an easy grin. He backs away from me slowly and gives me a wink. "I'll see you later, Win."

Maybe everything will actually be okay.


	5. Chapter 5

You'd think things would be different after Spike asks me out, but it's not really a huge change. I just make myself act normally around him, convincing myself it's not awkward, because he really doesn't make it like that. We both enjoyed our relationship before and don't want it to change now.

After that first day, we never talk about it. I personally try to pretend it never happened, and if Spike's personal space bubble seems to be shrinking, if he brings me iced drinks from Starbucks so I can try all the different flavors, if he eats dinner with me and Leah at least once a week, well, that's just what friends do.

I find myself spending a lot more time with the team after I move in with Leah. It's not that I don't like living with her—we get along fantastically—but now that things are heating up between her and Zach I prefer to be out of the way for the random makeout sessions. I can no longer eat at the head of the table, sit on the right side of the couch, or stand at the end of the shower. If I run into them anymore soon my bedroom will be the only place I feel comfortable. And even then… It's just best not to know.

I'm in a booth at the back of the diner after work one day, steering clear of Leah and Zach's random makeout sessions in the apartment. I'm supposed to be studying for a test I have coming up, but I'm actually just watching old Friends episodes and snickering to myself. Thankfully there's no one nearby—I have a hard time controlling my laughter sometimes.

Growing up, my mom watched every single episode of Friends. At the time I didn't think they were funny—I had far more important things to do than hang out with my _mom_—but I'm actually really getting into it now. It's something I can talk about with her when I call. Something that doesn't make her cry.

Anyway, Chandler's breaking up with Janice now and I am in _tears_, I really am, when suddenly I glance up and see Spike standing at the door watching me with this grin on his face. I blush and wave at him.

This is freaking embarrassing. Yes, Spike, this is why I said no to you. When faced with going on a date with you or watching Friends…I choose Friends.

Maybe not that bad. I had my reasons. More substantial ones, at least.

He strolls on over, all at ease and breathtaking while my palms are sweating and I'm trying to keep from grinning like an idiot. Seriously, when did I become so transparent? I used to be so cool.

"Hey, Win," he says as he comes to stand by my table.

Wrong thing to say, Spike. _Win._ Now I'll never be able to form an intelligible sentence.

"You look like you're having a good time," he comments with a grin, taking in my flushed face and smile.

I shrug and gesture awkwardly at my computer. "I'm watching Friends."

"Leah kick you out?"

"Well, she gave me two choices," I explain seriously. "Clear out, or risk having an X-rated scene play out in front of me between her and her boyfriend. So I cleared out."

He snorts. "I don't blame you."

"You want to join me?"

_Did you really just say that? _I always heard about people just blurting things out before they thought them through—never thought that was legit—but here I am, a living testament to that anomaly.

He raises his eyebrows and hesitates for a moment.

"Unless," I rush to explain, "unless you have something else to do. Are you here with someone else?" I crane my neck towards the front of the diner to try and spot his date.

"No!" he exclaims, taking us both off guard. He bites his lip and rolls his shoulders as if trying to relieve some tension. "No, I'm by myself." He shrugs and glances at my laptop. "Friends, huh?"

This is so embarrassing. He probably thinks I'm so pathetic.

I nod.

"Sure."

Well, okay then. I hesitate for only a moment before scooting over to the other side of the booth so he can slide in with me. He clears his throat and makes a point of sitting far enough away so he doesn't touch me.

"My mom loves this show," I say as we wait for Connie to come take Spike's order. "She used to watch it every day."

"How's she doing?" Spike asks. He taps some salt out on the table and starts drawing in it—a dog, a flower, a bird.

"She doesn't have too long," I say softly, making sure my voice is calm and even like I have to make it every day on shift. "She had a checkup last week and the doctor said she's got about two months, maybe three if she's lucky."

"Shouldn't you be there with her? I'm sure you could get some personal leave…"

I'm silent for a few minutes while Connie takes Spike's order, trying to gather my thoughts and figure out what we're going to talk about here. A couple months ago I wouldn't have thought it was appropriate to tell him all this, but Spike's my friend now, so…

"I'm going to go be with her for the last month," I say after Connie leaves. "And I'm trying to call her more often, email, Skype. We never got along that great, but I want her to know I'm here for her."

I'm pressed into the wall now, trying get enough distance between the two of us so we can face each other without it being awkward. He's studying me, and I know he can see all the things I'm not saying. How I blamed my mom at first for my dad leaving, because he was gone and there wasn't anyone else around the blame. How I've barely stayed afloat this last year with all the hospital bills. How, as much as my mom and I always fought, as much tension as there always was between us, I don't want to lose her. It's too soon. She supposed to be around for my wedding, to see my kids. Now she's not going to be.

"Let me know if there's anything I can do for you, when…when the time comes," he says softly, gently meeting my eyes. I can see his sincerity.

I nod and stir up my coffee just so I'll have something to do with my hands. My laptop screen goes black.

"And your dad? Where's he at?"

I drop my head and pretend to readjust my watch so he can't see me squint my eyes and purse my lips. I face him again. "He left, three years ago. I haven't really spoken to him since."

He nods slowly, and doesn't say anything else. I'm not making any effort to hide from him that I don't want to talk about this. I don't talk about it with anyone.

We're quiet for a few minutes—I sip my coffee, he sticks a straw in the soda Connie brings him. It's funny, I never really thought I'd ever have comfortable silences with anyone but my family, especially Kaylee, but I have these moments with Spike, and Leah too, where I just decide that we're friends and it's comfortable and there's not really a need to speak. It's just…it's nice, it really is.

Eventually I wake my computer up and hand Spike one of the earbuds so we can both hear the episodes. He's the kind of person you want to watch things like this with—I'm not afraid of laughing till I'm wheezing because he's dying too, snorting into our drinks and desperately trying to keep it down so it doesn't carry right across the whole diner. I think we both know it's not working.

We move on to Seinfeld's "The sea was angry that day, my friends", and right around the time that we're both crying from laughing so hard, Connie comes over and signals that they're about to close. I glance at my watch and can't believe how late it's gotten, time just flying by when I'm with Spike. He pays for my food before I can even protest, says I can just surprise him with a muffin sometime. Or a donut, I think to myself. From the weird look in his eyes he could be thinking the same thing.

We tell Connie good night and head outside to where he's parked and my bike's chained. He stands with me while I unlock it and then grabs it without a word and starts walking to his truck.

"Um, excuse me?" I quip, following him as he gently sets my ride in his truck bed. "I kind of need that to get home."

He shakes his head and opens the passenger door, standing back like the gentleman he is. "Nope. I'm giving you a ride tonight, Win."

"But—"

"No buts." He gestures for me to get in. "I'll just follow you anyway to make sure you get home safely. Might as well just let me drive."

I roll my eyes and pretend to be angry while I climb in. "Fine. I wouldn't want you to worry."

He shrugs, his hand still on the door. "Just want you to be safe."

He doesn't give me time to reply as he shuts the door and comes around to climb in the driver's side. I try not to shiver at the blast of a/c that hits me once he turns his truck on. He notices anyway, and hurries to turn the air off. I smile gratefully and we pull out of the parking lot as the diner lights dim.

"How do you like living with Leah?" he asks after a couple quiet minutes. There's some soft rock coming from the radio and I'm trying to keep my eyes from closing as the long day catches up with me.

"It's nice," I say, pulling myself out of my tired haze. "We made a plan for who does chores, and we already got along really good before so that helps." I wrinkle my nose. "Kinda sick of her and Zach making out all over the apartment, though. I try to avoid all the places I've caught them, and it's just getting to be too many."

Spike snickers and brakes at a light he could probably have made if he'd just cut it a little closer. "Have you asked her to keep it in her bedroom?"

I shrug. "Yeah, but…she says it just happens and there's no time to make it there." I roll my eyes as I remember her solemn expression as she said this, like there really was no way she and Zach could possibly pull their lips apart for ten seconds to run to her room and close the door. "Not so sure if I believe that one."

He just laughs again and turns the music up a little, hums along to the songs he knows. It takes just a couple minutes for him to pull up in front of my apartment building. He gets out to help me with my bike.

We stand there awkwardly for a moment, I don't really know how to say goodbye and I guess he doesn't either. I'm about to just turn and walk away when suddenly he steps forward and pulls me into a hug, just for a second. I don't even have time to put my arms around him before he's pulling away. "I'll see you tomorrow, Win."

I pull my brain out of the gutter at the way he says my name and nod, gripping the handles of my bike a bit tighter than necessary. "See ya, Spike."

* * *

Most mornings that I work, I come in about an hour early to work out on the elliptical. I listen to audio books, and right now I'm listening to Jane Eyre. Team One's already been there an hour by the time I usually arrive, and they always give me weird looks when I'm smiling at something Mr. Rochester said, or frowning at Jane's pain. Now that it's getting towards the end of the summer semester, my finals are killing me, so I usually skip my workouts at work in exchange for some study time. We've all been working even longer days than usual, and I'm now positive that taking three classes this semester was insane. I have no idea what I was thinking.

I've taken up running around the neighborhood Leah and I live in now, mostly because I burn more running in a shorter time than I would on the elliptical. I'm not a runner. I'm really not—I hate it with a fervent and burning passion—but it's such a good workout, plus it's free, that I just keep doing it.

On our days off sometimes Leah and I run together. She talks the whole time, about Zach and work and Spike, while I'm just trying to _breathe_—talking is a bit of a stretch and definitely not a priority. I do my best to listen, but when she gets to Spike I sometimes muster up the strength to argue. I said no, he's moved on, and I'm…well, I'm stuck, but I don't tell her that. I think she knows, though.

I've always had trouble with that kind of thing—I think every guy is "the one". I'd hardly even considered Spike like that before he asked me out, but now I am. Leah says it was just a sign that the perfect guy's right in front of me and that's what it took for me to see him. I try to ignore her and stay in denial.

It's a Friday night a few weeks after SAMO Day—Spike Asks Me Out Day—and Zach's coming over for dinner. Usually I have to leave when he comes over, but he actually has an early shift tomorrow and can't stay the night, so I get to eat dinner with him and Leah. Sometimes it can be a little awkward, but I like Zach and the three of us actually get along pretty well.

I offer to cook dinner while Leah's getting ready. We decide on spaghetti, garlic bread, salad, and a chocolate silk pie. Leah's in charge of drinks for she and Zach.

I'm just combining the spaghetti noodles with the meat sauce when Leah comes out, all decked in a flowy dress and putting in some red earrings.

"Mm," she moans as she takes on some of the scents. "Smells good."

"Thanks," I say, giving her a smile as I take in her outfit. "You look nice."

She nods, popping a cherry tomato in her mouth and glancing over my jeans, sweater, and bare feet. "Spike's coming too, you know."

"What?!" I shriek, dropping the lid to the meat sauce and burning my arm with the steam. "Leah!"

She smirks at me and takes a wooden spoon from my hand. "Might want to go get dressed."

I glare at her, knowing this was her plan all along, like some sort of double date, and shake my head. "You know what? No. This is just four friends having dinner together. I'm not going to turn it into something else just because you want it to."

She rolls her eyes and uses a fork to scoop a sauce-covered noodle out of the pan. "At least put on some socks? Maybe a pair of earrings?"

I stomp off to my room in a fury. This is just like Leah, to try and set Spike and me up on a date in just such a way that she can watch. Well, it's not happening. I made my own bed, I'm lying in it, and _no one_, especially not Leah, is going to drag me out of it.

Despite my mental protestations, I find myself changing into a dark blue tunic and putting in some dangly earrings that kind of clink together and sounds like bells. I spritz myself with some perfume and even put on some mascara. Big guns, people, big guns. I grab my favorite socks—the ones with a bunch of multicolored pocka dots—and pull them on, no point in putting on shoes in my own apartment.

Zach gets here first and walks right in like he owns the place, all "where's my Leah bear?" and more disgusting crap. I make a point to stay in the kitchen while the two of them eat each other's faces on the couch. I'm losing my appetite already. It could be nerves at Spike coming, but I'm taking the low road and deciding to just blame someone else here.

When the doorbell rings I drop a metal spoon into the pot of hot noodles, and proceed to burn my fingers when I try to fish it out. By the time I've rescued the spoon and run my fingers under some cold water, Leah's clearly irritated with me.

She comes storming into the kitchen and, grabbing me by the shoulders, proceeds to propel me out the door into the living room. Spike and Zach are talking, and they look up as we come rushing in.

Thank you, Leah, for making what was already an uncomfortable situation for me even more awkward.

I immediately decide that Spike and I are kindred spirits because, while Zach and Leah are dressed to the nines, he's just wearing jeans and a button down, blue plaid this time and, yeah, all colors are his color. He grins at me when he sees me and leaves Zach mid sentence while Leah suddenly abandons me and goes to whisper something in her boyfriend's ear that makes him give her a very heavy look and a really tight, hungry hug.

"Hi, Win," Spike says, coming to stand in front of me, apparently unfazed by Zach and Leah's embarrassingly obvious PDA. I desperately try to keep my brain from melting at his grin. He pulls a bouquet of flowers suddenly out from behind his back. "I brought you a housewarming gift."

"Oh, Spike, thank you! I love flowers." I grin at him as I take the bouquet and take in a deep breath of the fresh scent. "What about Leah?" I quip, twisting the plastic wrapping around to keep from throwing myself into his arms to show my thanks.

He shrugs and quirks his eyebrows at me. "I think she's getting plenty of gifts over there," he says, pointing a thumb behind him to where Zach and Leah are now pressed against the wall.

I grimace and nod my agreement. "You know, you're probably right." I take another sniff of the flowers and gesture toward the kitchen. "I'm just going to put these in some water. You can stay here with the lovebirds or…"

"I'll come with you," he says decidedly.

I pull out a vase from under the sink, one that I got after my dad left and my mom's brother brought flowers to maybe help her feel better. She started crying right away because Dad would always bring her flowers when they were first married. I took the flowers, and the vase, and never gave it back.

I purposefully shove all those dismal thoughts to the back of my mind as I fill the vase with water and plunge the flowers in, shifting them around till they look decent. This kind of bouquet is my favorite—all mismatched, no roses, just lots of color and good smells. I set the arrangement on the kitchen table and go back to the stove to mix the pasta again. Spike leans against the doorjamb and watches me.

"You want something to drink?" I ask as I rummage through the cabinets to find a bowl to dump the spaghetti into. "Leah's got beer in the fridge, or there's tea, or Coke." I open the fridge to try to find something else. "Orange juice?"

He chuckles and grabs one of my Diet Cokes out of the fridge, the one right next to Leah's birth control. "This is good." He comes over to the stove and takes an appreciative sniff. "Smells good."

I shrug and dump the pasta unceremoniously into a green bowl. "Probably nothing like your ma's, but it's okay." Then I bite my lip. It's kind of weird for me to call his mother "ma"; any _normal_ friend would just say "your mom", "your mother", "your old lady".

But then he smiles at me and I feel like maybe I said something right.

"Still smells good," he repeats, leaning back up against the fridge while I whirl around trying to pull everything together last minute. Salad's dumped into its own bowl, I rummage up some Italian and ranch dressing, even find some croutons. Spike starts taking dishes and putting them on the table without me even asking, and I have to grin at him for that. No thanks to Leah, who's still grinding Zach into the wall.

Everything's finally pulled together, table all set, and Spike and I stand awkwardly at the kitchen door, neither one of us wanting to go break up the little makeout session taking place a couple feet away. Finally I shrug. "Maybe if we just sit down and get started they'll join us after awhile."

Spike considers this and finally nods. "Better than having to get in between them."

I grimace at the thought and we sit down next to each other to dig in. He makes some joke about his ma making noodles and I snicker into my water glass and almost pour Italian dressing onto the table. He grins back at me and proceeds to dump some crouton crumbs all over his placemat.

I'm surprised at how fast Leah and Zach decide to join us. Leah pulls out her chair really loudly and sits down hard next to me, giving me a nasty look. "Thanks for waiting for us, Win."

I give her a look and she has the grace to smile sheepishly. Zach, on the other hand, seems to have found himself newly empowered and talks even louder than usual when he tells Spike about his new Ford. I'm grateful when Leah steers the topic back to something more interesting, like monster truck rallies; Spike just can't get over the fact that I've been to a few, even some by myself just for fun.

"You two should go together sometime," Leah suggests nonchalantly in between bites of garlic bread. "You can protect each other from the drunk, horny masses."

I blush all over and focus an intense stare on my water glass, but Spike gets us out of that awkward situation really quickly. "You and Zach could come too. Great bonding experience."

Leah snorts and takes a long swig of beer. "I'm around crashing cars enough as it is—don't need to go see a show about them with a bunch of drunken A-holes." She runs her hand steamily down Zach's back and does something that makes him jump in his seat. "Already got a drunken man right here."

Zach rolls his eyes and makes a point of finishing off his beer. "Not quite, babe. Just a few more."

I shift uncomfortably and tap my nails against my water glass, trying not to squirm at all this talk about alcohol that almost always inevitably turns to me not drinking any. But Leah steers clear of it this time, and we move on to favorite movies.

After dinner Leah dishes up some huge pieces of chocolate silk pie and we all go into the living room to play poker. Zach makes some comment about strip, but I discreetly pinch Leah's thigh until she groans—she plays it off as a moan of disappointment—and says nah, maybe next time.

After a couple hours—and about $30 later—Leah stretches dramatically and throws an arm around Zach, saying he'd better "put her to bed" before she just falls asleep on the floor. Spike and I share a look, both rolling our eyes, and he says it's about time he should get going too.

I walk him out to his truck, giving Zach and Leah some time to make it to her bedroom before I sneak back in.

"So," Spike says softly, leaning up against his truck, "did Leah let you know I was coming ahead of time?"

I snicker and shrug, tracing figure eights on the asphalt with my sock-covered toe. "About five minutes before. She's really on top of things like that."

He grins at me, clears his throat and shrugs. "There's a monster truck rally next weekend. Wanna go?"

I really can't tell if he's joking or not. But what the what. "Well…you really wanna go?"

His eyes light up like maybe he _was_ joking before, but he's not opposed to the idea now that he knows I'm serious. "Y—yeah! I'll look it up, see how much tickets are. You think Leah and Zach would wanna go?"

I shrug. "I'll ask her, but I kinda doubt it. Doesn't really seem like their thing."

He nods slowly and gives me one last slow grin that makes me grind my toes hard into the ground. "I'll see you tomorrow, Win."

" 'Night."


End file.
